


You Might Think I'm Crazy

by thehiphopopotamus



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, John has anger issues, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Hospital, Sherlock has abandonment issues, There will be fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-15
Updated: 2013-07-15
Packaged: 2017-12-20 07:10:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/884418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehiphopopotamus/pseuds/thehiphopopotamus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is sent to the mental hospital after a bit of a struggle with family enemies. Upon arriving, John meets Sherlock, a boy always wearing a rabbit mask and often more intelligent than the nurses. Two mentally unstable forces team up and eventually find that they're the cure for each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> More chapters soon. Story along the lines of "It's Kind of a Funny Story", not intended to be too dark, more quirky. Please enjoy.

John was showed around the hospital, smiling slightly as the taller woman tried to comfort him. He'd only been 16 when he finally snapped. Perhaps it was just exhaustion from constant abuse from his father, others say it was lack of friends from protecting his sister's reputation. Either way, here was was, stuck in the Psych Ward of a hospital, glancing around at the other adults and teenagers flinching and laughing with no one. He knew what he had done was wrong, but he was so angry and far gone at the time. 

"You'll be sharing a room with Mr. Holmes." 

John nodded, sighing. This was real. 

John entered the room, following the taller lady. A tall, lean boy sat on the upper bunk bed. From what John could see, the boy wore a mask made of paper crochet. It was in the shape of a rabbit. Weird.

John hoped this wasn't some kind of kid who had stabbed his entire family. He didn't think he really wanted that.

"Sherlock, this is John Watson. He is your new roommate."

"Clara you should fully understand the extent Mr. Watson will be staying in this room when looking at previous patients who have attempted their stay in this room. I enjoy my privacy."

John blinked. Well then. That's quite an introduction.

"Be nice, Sherlock. Come now, John. Place your stuff down and I'll take you around some more."

"Thank you, but I would really like to rest if that's alright with you." John smiled and the lady nodded, leaving the room. 

John pulled his suitcase into the lower bed, unlocking it and noticing an empty drawer. He started putting his clothes in, ignoring the mask that stared at him throughout his process.

"You don't think you belong here, but at the same time logic says you do. You were shot in a gang incident, forced into submission. Your father was in deep with debt and your sister was long gone. You tried to stand your ground but you took out the entire gang after they shot you. That explains why you're limping but not why you are here. Why is that Watson?"

John looked at the mask then, sought the eyes behind the rabbit. He was astonished. No one had ever guessed that right off the bat like that. Incredible! 

"How did you know?"

The rabbit-masked man snorted.

"Quite simple. You hold your suitcase with the arm opposite of your writing hand, meaning you were wounded. The way you limp implies being hurt in some way, and due to the way you hold yourself, you come from either a proud family or you are protective of someone from your family. Your sister obviously left you, so now you hold yourself up to show you only need yourself. The fact that your sister abandoned you means your father was a drunkard, which could only mean he was in deep debt with two children. Your sister was gone, so you stood ground and in turn you were the one attacked. But again I ask, why are you here.?" Sherlock watched John held a sad smile.

"What I did to them afterwards is what got me here." 

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. 

"Your refusal to share details is incredibly irritating." 

"Your insisting tone is quite a bit more aggravating, I assure you." 

John turned to the door and walked out, deciding to explore. Anything was better than listening to a masked boy ramble on in a temper tantrum about how he couldn't guess John's life. Well bloody hell it was his own life to keep! He didn't need anyone else knowing.

Little did John know as he walked through the hallway, a sixteen year-old boy with a rabbit mask followed him. 

John blinked as he reached yet another dead end. They weren't allowed to use the elevators until meal times so John saw a nurse look sympathetically at him. 

"Sorry dear, dinner isn't for another half hour. Are you hungry now?"

John sighed, shook his head and thanked the woman. He turned around to see a flash of ears. The damned prick was following him. 

"Bunny ears, I'm not sure if you're lost or not, but I'm certain following me won't help you." John watched Sherlock stand then, staring at him.

"Do you ever not wear that mask?" John added as he walked closer to the boy.

"No." 

"You should try it then. May help you seem less creepy stalking down the hallway, yeah?" John walked past the boy, noticing the boy just standing there staring at him. 

"Well, come on then. You know this place better than I do. Mind helping me find my way back? I'm fairly lost." John watched Sherlock walk up to John, stare at him, and then continue walking. John followed, his leg beginning to tense and pain shot up his leg suddenly. He leaned against the wall, whimpering. Sherlock was next to him then, looking at his leg and reaching forward to touch a certain spot and suddenly John's leg stopped. John's panting slowed as he looked at Sherlock. 

"Pressure point. I thought it may help." Sherlock watched John smile.

"Thank you, Sherlock." 

Sherlock blinked. No one ever really used his first name, unless they were introducing his entire name, or the formal Mr. Holmes. 

"Would you like to be friends?" Sherlock felt stupid the second the sentence left his mouth. He's seen plenty of films where that one sentence could very well fail him. But John Watson, he was different in every way. He looked Sherlock in the eyes, and he didn't try to avoid what made Sherlock different. 

John smiled.

"I'd like that."


	2. Boiling Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A punch that leads to confinement.

John woke up in his bed with the sunlight from the window shining in the white room. He blinked, rubbed his eyes and sat up, looking around the room. Nightmares prior to consciousness lingered in his mind as he noticed how much sweat dropped from his clothes. He sighed. 

"You have nightmares from that night, don't you?"

John looked up to see Sherlock staring at him through his mask. 

"A bit yeah." John got off his bed and looked at Sherlock fully, watching the taller boy. It was so hard to see what he was thinking through the mask. He walked to his drawer and pulled out clothes, knowing the showers were right down the hall.

"John, one of the more violent patients is in there right now and he can be a little...pushy. I'd advise you to be careful." Sherlock watched John nod.

"I'll keep an eye out, thanks." John walked out of the room, down the hall. He pushed the door open to see an empty shower room. He'd assumed it was empty, there wast any water going and deadly silence filled the room. Walking in, he undressed and turned the faucet on, grabbing soap before he felt a presence behind him. He ducked, watching a gripping hand go past him, he grabbed the other's arm, forcing him down and backing away, ready to pounce. This larger boy attempted to stand up, scar wounds covering his head and torso, his arms large from working out, his pale skin exaggerating the scars marking his body. 'Dear god. What is wrong with this one.' John stood his ground as the larger boy loomed over him.

"You're the new guy, huh? Pretty quick too. Every guy here knows there's a gift waiting for them if they come here during my time." The boy had a deep looming voice.

"Uh well see this shower is public. And usually public usually means everyone can use it any time. I don't know why this seemed to have passed through one ear out the other for you, but I'd imagine you should respect this rule, as I am." John raised his eyebrow, waiting for a response as the larger boy grew more and more angry. 

"You'll pay for your mouth! What's your name?" The boy snarled.

"John!" 

John and the boy turned to see Sherlock at the open door, looking back and forth at the two beings. He eventually focused on John, panic in his eyes. 

"Sherlock Holmes, who would have guessed you'd have the guts to come here during my time. Need a reminder of what happens when people do that?" The boy grinned, and John watched Sherlock cower.

That was all John needed.

The loud crack bounced off the walls then, then a following thump and whimper from the larger boy. John stood above the boy, snarling. Sherlock wrapped a towel around John then, rushing him out and leading them to their room. he closed the door behind him, unwrapping the towel around John and ignoring the surprised gasp from John as he scanned his body for injuries.

"You aren't hurt? He didn't touch you? Your fist is bloody, let me fix it."

"No the bloody bastard didn't touch me. But what makes you think you can?" John wrapped the towel back around his waist as Sherlock grabbed his hand and lead him to a small drawer in the desk, pulling out gauze. 

"You didn't come back. Right away. I was worried that something had happened and I was hoping I could help. Somehow." Sherlock was in shock. He'd been terrified. He was even more terrified he was feeling this way. He finished wrapping John's hand, slowly getting lost in his thoughts.

"Sherlock, your mask." John frowned. 

Sherlock placed a steady hand on his mask, panic erupting when it was damp. Why had he not calculated this happening? He just acted on instinct, a fool!

John held a steady hand on Sherlock's, and silver met blue. 

"You should take that mask off." John watched Sherlock pull away and his jaw clenched. 

"I don't believe that would be a good idea." Sherlock left the room then, leaving John to his injuries and thoughts.

Minutes later, a nurse runs in and gasps at John's hand.

"John! Are you alright?" The nurse came closer and examined the bandaging, then looked at John.

"What happened?" 

John shrugged and looked away. The nurse sighed and lead John to the door, out of the room and Sherlock ran up then.

"He's not going to the solitary room is he?" Sherlock watched the nurse place a hand on his shoulder and smile softly.

"It's only for a day, Mr. Holmes. He'll be right back in the morning. This is just a punishment." 

John rolled his eyes.

"Well, lets get on with it then." John had been informed of this room, a place where patients were left in solitary confinement for however long to think about why they were being punished. He knew he deserved it, punching people isn't exactly the most effective way of handling situations, but the way Sherlock looked when that patient made that comment was enough to get John's anger boiling.

John walked to the room where he'd be spending the night, Sherlock following the nurse behind John, looking quite irritated.

"He does not deserve to go in there, you know fully well it was an act of self defense and that you should have more security in those shower rooms! This is just showing the injustice in this hospital." Sherlock snapped at the nurse who have John a sympathetic look.

"It's quite alright Sherlock, I'll see you tomorrow." John lifted his hand to Sherlock and walked into the dark green padded room. It sent a nagging feeling in his stomach, that this wasn't comfortable or natural, but he knew why he was there. He sat on the bed, staring ahead at the toilet, scanning the room to see the sink, the barred window, but nothing else really. It was going to be a long and boring night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will explain about Sherlock's mask a little more, and it does get repaired from getting soaked from the showers.


End file.
